He wants the ride to stop on the freight train straight to hell Without the truth he'll never find in a dungeon of his lies His cause of death high speed on burnt
you will be dead Frothing bloodily from the mouth I'll burn you bastard to a fuck The sweet sweet smell of your burning hell Inspires the fires that
The features are slowly rotting Off your deformed face Now you are just A twisted mass of burnt decay Retching violently Heaving chunks of burnt toxic
Burnt: BURN, BURN i just burn minds to open things to learn my dead brain is my concern so leave me be and let me burn BURN BURN BURN BURN that's my fate
and face crack from the sub-arctic cold Countless pieces of flesh brake off like broken eggshells A plunging cold so brutal it actually burns My lips
Bullshit knocks you over the head like a ton of bricks CNN kills brain cells like alcohol, PR feeds the rage But the clear answers never come It's like
[Instrumental]
The high office of the President has been used To foment a plot to destroy the President John Fitzgerald Kennedy In a speech made to Columbia University
I can still hear the fear behind your last gasp Even above the flat slaps of my thumbs against this desk You take a moment to rewind in your mind If only
economy. But is this working for you? You're running stride is just to keep the pace. AND I WATCH THIS BURN YOU ALIVE. Burn you alive. Burn your life.
Last time I swore it was the last time I'd write these last rites to this last fight By the third time around I'm pretty well versed By the third time
I swear this time is real, I swear this time is real Stood back and took some copious notes Observation lent some truth, evaluated where I stand Dove
Okay, we can stop now, time to this stop and go We can stop pretending to be sane on this cold worn sidewalk We look like fools today, much like yesterday
I'm staring into the sun Waiting for it to fall down I've collapsed over this madness My hair has been pulled out I've tried but to no avail Me is resting
This is the soundtrack to your life. This is where it all begins. Your conscience tried. Your conscience has failed. You're going nowhere fast. Another
A tide of blue blood A tide of mystic light so consuming, shadows take a life of their own But you won't see them walk around, CFR, TLC (Council on Foreign
This is ludicrous speed, what's here and now And intended to be clear to the senses passes as a blur Obsession, desire, desire, obsession, I know the